


Dead Men's Tales

by starshipsandsuperheroes



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starshipsandsuperheroes/pseuds/starshipsandsuperheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a post apocalyptic world, Pike recruits James T. Kirk to lead a team that will keep the surviving population, most of which is living within Federation camps, safe from the infected zombies, who run rampant outside their walls.  Jim isn't going to just stop at defending what's left of their world, though.  No, they're going to end this virus, one way or another- with a cure, or with... well, the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based off this gifset here:  
> http://starshipsandsuperheroes.tumblr.com/post/54846787997/star-trek-au-in-a-post-apocalyptic-world

                When Pike approaches Jim about creating this team, he knows immediately it’s not going to come from anywhere in the camp.  Not this camp, not the next camp over, and not from anywhere within the federation’s survivor refuges.  There’s survivors in there, yes; people who have sought out the means to keep them alive… but that’s not the kind of survivors he needs.

                98% of the population lives in the camps.  They’re well-guarded, protected, shielded, and as safe as you can possibly get.  To play border patrol and seeker of the dead, or even a cure, all in one…. You’ve gotta have a death wish.  Jim’s always had one.  Now he needs a team equally as suicidal as him.

                Ok, so maybe he can grab a few members of the team from inside the camps.  But for the most part, the camps’ populations don’t have the survival instinct, even if they want to hunt zombie ass.  There are still survivors out there, he knows, and he’s going to find them.  But he’s stopped by that quiet guy he’s seen once or twice in Pike’s area of the camp- the official side- before he can head out. 

                Jim had noticed him before, here and there.  He works with the leaders, he knows; some genius or something.  They’re all working together to find a cure.

                “Kirk.”  It surprises him how void of emotion the man’s voice is.

                He turns to face him.  “Do I know you?”

                The man shakes his head.  “No, you do not.  I only wish to offer my assistance with your… task.”

                Jim’s eyebrows shoot up.  “You have a death wish?”

                “No more than you do.”

                This guy is sharp.  Jim nods, and starts to walk, the man falling into step next to him.  “Well, if we’re going to be working together, than you should call me Jim.  Do I get the honor of learning your name?”

                The man is quiet for a moment before replying.  “Spock.”

                “Spock?”  It’s not a name he’s ever heard before, and it doesn’t seem like something someone would normally name their child.

                Spock hesitates.  “It’s what you would consider a long story.”

                Jim chuckles.  “One of these days, if we live long enough, I’ll have to hear it.”

* * *

 

                McCoy comes with them, too.  He hadn’t been the same since the day he and Jim reached the camp, and he had lost his daughter.  He had a sweet and caring side, but it had receded behind a mask of work and bitterness.  In all honesty, Jim doesn’t mind being a target for him to fire sarcasm and bitterness at.  He remembered what happened pretty clearly, and it wasn’t something that left him warm and fuzzy inside, let alone Bones.

                _Bones was clenching his gun with white knuckles, Jim standing a few feet behind him as Joanna staggered away.  They both knew what was happening, but neither of them said anything, denying it._

_“Jo!”  Bones stopped moving forward after a bit, holding a firm stance, gun cocked and at the ready, wavering ever so slightly.  Despite how ready he looked, Jim knew he wouldn’t be able to fire that shot if it came down to it.  Instead, he mirrored his stance, knowing that he was going to have to take her down if…_

_Joanna didn’t stop walking.  Well, staggering was probably a better way of describing it.  Her long blonde hair was dirty and tangled, coat hanging off her shoulders… her daddy’s little princess.  She had been through so much at such a young age, and now, this was going to be the end of it._

_“Joanna, don’t go over there, they’ll see you!  Just run to me, come on!”  She was headed for a few zombies that were now approaching.  They smelled the fresh meat, Jim supposed._

_Bones’s little girl turned around, and he watched his best friend’s shoulders tense, and begin to shake.  He buried his face into the crook of his shoulder, his grip on his gun tightening impossibly.  “No…”  The whisper barely carried, but Jim’s gut clenched, and he straightened, taking aim._

_One shot did it.  She was down and out.  It scared the other zombies off, too.  They staggered away quickly, not wanting to have to deal with the hunters right now.  It was unusual behavior, but not unheard of._

_The tension in Bones dissipated, his gun dropping to the ground with a clatter as he ran forward.  “Jo!”_

_Jim grabbed his shoulder.  “Bones, she’s gone.  There’s nothing you can do.”_

_He tried to wrench away.  “I’m a doctor, Jim, I can save her!”_

_“Leonard, she’s not in there anymore.  Even if she was still alive, it wouldn’t be her.  They had her.  She was gone before she even left the truck.”  Jim never used his name unless it was incredibly serious, and McCoy knew that.  It got through to him, and he stopped fighting against Jim’s grip._

_His friend sobbed, and Jim held him, helping him back to the truck and driving away.  It stopped after a while, and Jim looked over to see Bones staring off into space, his gaze having hardened over._

_“We’re gonna hunt down a lot more of those bastards, Jim.  We’re gonna hunt them all down, and get rid of every last one.”_

                That had been four months ago, and since then, McCoy and Jim had found the camp and settled there, taking on jobs and such to help life keep going on.  He’s more than willing to help with their suicide mission, though, and the three of them pile into a big black truck before they can give it too much thought, two weeks’ worth of rations in the back, enough for more than just the three of them.  They would be finding people who had been living in hell for a long time.  The least they could do is bring them some food.

                “Any second thoughts?”

                McCoy rolls his eyes at Jim’s grin.  “Just drive, idiot.”

* * *

 

                They find Uhura first.  They’re driving on what little road they can, and she suddenly appears in front of them, gun ready.  “Get out of the car or I’ll shoot your tires.”

                They glance at each other and shrug, before unstrapping and stepping out, hands above their heads.  Jim speaks for the group.  “We’re not infected, and we don’t want to hurt you.  We’re here to help you.”

                She frowns.  “You’re speaking, so it’s obvious you’re not infected.  And you understood what I said.  The zombies have their own language.  It’s pretty barbaric.  As for you not wanting to hurt me, I don’t see how you can help me.  I don’t need the camp’s help.”

                “We are with the camp, but we are here to do with something unrelated to their activities, for the most part,” Spock cuts in, and her gaze whips to him.  Something in what she had said, though, catches Jim’s ears.

                “Wait, you understand what they’re saying?”

                She shrugs, the gun barely moving.  “Most of it.  They’re basically equivalent to the mindset of a five year old.  It’s pretty simple things, basic communication skills.”

                They glance at each other.  That could be useful.

                “Look, we’re not here to harm you, and we’re not here with the camp, like we’ve said.  We’re going to protect whoever’s left, and we’re going to find a way to cure this.  Or end it.  Either way, we’ll find a way to stop it.  And we could use your help.”

                Her gun slowly lowers, and Jim knows he’s won her over.  “Come with us.  I mean, do you really have anything to lose?”

                She nods, crossing over to them.  “I’m Nyota Uhura.”

                They introduce themselves, and after Bones has checked her thoroughly to make sure she’s not carrying any trace of the virus, they’re on their way, plus one passenger.

* * *

 

                They meet Sulu the next day.  Uhura is trusting of them surprisingly fast, and has gotten to know them all fairly well overnight.  They’re not working seamlessly together yet, but there’s time for that.  Not time right now, though. 

                “Spock, stop the van!”

                There’s a man on the side of the road, fighting off three zombies with a huge blade, whirling it around like a pro.  He needs help, though- it’s hard enough to fight one off in close quarters, let alone three.  So they all rush out, Jim and Spock coming to his aid and taking on the other two.

                They’re all panting, and three bodies are laying at their feet, when the man flips a button and his sword folds into itself, and wow, that is really neat, and Jim wants one of those.  When he looks over at Bones, though, the man’s expression bleeds “No, Jim,” and he pouts a bit.

                “You’re not gonna kill me, are you?” the newcomer asks suddenly.

                Jim grins at him.  “After that kind of a fight?  Are you kidding?”

                The man returns his grin and holds out his hand.  “I had to make sure.  Thanks for coming to help me out there, by the way.  I’m Hikaru Sulu.”

                Jim takes it.  “Jim Kirk.  I was wondering if you’d like to join our team here and do a little more of that kind of thing.”

                Sulu grins, tucking the sword’s hilt into a double holster, also holding his gun conveniently at his hip.  “I’m always up for kicking some zombie ass, sir.”

* * *

 

                They find the kid two days later, after a lot of explaining to their newest members and aimless driving.  It’s the middle of the night, completely silent save for the sound of the engine, and then there’s suddenly gunshots.  Uhura and Spock, who were sleeping, immediately are awake, and the van comes to a stop, everyone listening for the direction of the noise. 

                A shout, then more gunfire.  Sulu, who’s sitting in the passenger seat, points, and Jim guns it in that direction, one hand already reaching for his gun.  By the time they reach the scene, it’s two on one, with more coming.  A lean figure is fighting them off, shooting rapidly from one zombie to the next, yelling as he does so.

                They pile out of the car and run to help the man as three more join his attackers, and he starts shooting more frantically.  He leaps to the side to doge a huge blow, shooting at the zombies as he goes down.

                He lands on his back, and there’s five over him, and that’s just not gonna fly in Jim’s mind.   So he shoots at them, driving them all off.  By the time four are corpses around them and one is staggering away, they’re all breathing hard.

                The man isn’t a man at all, really.  It’s a kid- a teenager caught up in this kind of a world, big eyes wide with shock.  He scrambles to sit up, aiming his gun at them.

                “Don’t come any closer!”  Is that a Russian accent?  What’s a Russian kid doing over here?

                They all freeze, and Spock takes the lead.  “We do not wish to hurt you.  If we did, then it would have been illogical for us to save you from certain death by killing the five zombies we just fought off.”

                The gun doesn’t waver.  “Look, kid, we’re trying to help you.  We _can_ help you.”

                “Maybe I don’t vant your help.”

                His accent is making him sound even more childish despite the firm tone, and damnit, Jim is never going to be able to live with himself if he lets this kid wander off and get himself caught up in another situation like this- a stupid one with near unbeatable odds (though there’s always a way out, he supposes). 

                Bones, surprisingly, speaks up, and it’s him that really seems to get through to the kid.  “Well, it sure as hell seems like you could use it, pride be damned.  And I have a feeling we could use your help too.”

                The kid looks up at them all suspiciously.  “What would you need my help with?”

                Bones’ expression hardens the same way it did the day he lost Joanna.  “We’re gonna put an end to these bastards, one way or another.”

                The kid hesitates, then slowly lowers the weapon, standing up quickly.  It’s a start, they suppose.  “And how are you planning to do zat?  Chase zem down, take as many out as you can vhile you search for a solution?”

                Jim shrugs.  “Sounds about right.”

                The kid hesitates before nodding.  “Alright.  Count me in.”

                Jim grins.  “Good to have you aboard, kid.”

                The kid holds out a hand.  “Chekov, sir.  Pavel Andreievich Chekov.”

* * *

 

                They really lucked out with this team, Jim thinks.

                Turns out Uhura is a natural with linguistics, and through that, can read, write, and speak anything they need.  Sulu knows every single plant they could possibly think of, their uses, and which is poisonous to what kind of creature.  It doesn’t sound all that useful… until you realize that the man could probably poison the infected easily, making for an efficient and clean kill.  Chekov is a closet genius, setting up mapping and tracking equipment easily with their “long dead” computers.

                They have to stop at a camp along the way to pick up gas supplies, but beyond that, they don’t have any contact with the federation.  It’s been a week, and Jim is about ready to call it a finished team and pull them back for their first assignment, when they find the missing piece.

                There’s two zombies coming at the man when they first see him, and he grins as he raises his riffle.  They’re in the middle of an abandoned city now, tall buildings crumbling into ruins around him, and he’s grinning at the things that want to kill him and eat his brains and other insides.

                “Come and get me, ya bastards,” he snarls, firing off two shots for two quick kills.

                Their eyes widen, and they all leave the van.  They all know that this is the member they had been looking for.

                The man’s eyes widen, and he turns his weapon onto them.

                Jim’s hands fly above his head.  “We’re not infected, and we’re not here to harm you.”

                The man raises an eyebrow.  “Yeah?  That’s so?  And why, exactly, am I supposed to believe that?”

                Jim grins.  “Because we’re here to do the same thing as you.  We want to bring the bastards down, and I believe I’m not mistaken when I say we seem to have a common goal.”

                The man nods, and lowers his weapon.  “I’m Montgomery Scott.  You can call me Scotty.  Bit less of a mouthful, yeah?”

                Jim laughs and shakes his hand, introducing himself.  “I’m Jim Kirk, and this is my…. Crew.  Yeah, we’re a crew.  So, Scotty because you’re Scottish, or Scotty because of your last name?”

                The man just winks, and Jim is left to guess.

                “So, shall we get on with it, then?” the man asks, glancing around at the bunch of them gathered around.

                “You got it.  Everybody into the van.  We’ve got a world to save.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first mission is something worth celebrating, but they may not get a chance.

                They never make it back to the camp.

                The plan was to rendezvous there before getting their first set of directions from the officials.  They’re en route, though, when the radio buzzes, Uhura reporting that base is trying to call them.   Jim snags at it, everyone’s attention immediately drawn to the conversation up front.

                “Kirk here.”

                Pike’s voice is punctuated with bursts of static.  “Jim, this is Admiral Pike.  We have a problem.”

                He frowns, and the crew exchanges a look.  “What do you mean?”

                There’s a moment of silence from the other end, and then the sound is back.  Jim motions for Sulu to pull over, which he does without hesitation.  “There’s been an attack on one of the smaller bases, Delta IV.  It was a midpoint at best, but there’s a civilian threat, and we need it taken care of.  Looks like you guys have your first job a bit sooner than expected.”

                Jim looks to Chekov to ask him to find the place, but the kid’s fingers are already flying across the ancient keyboard, turning to flip through maps every so often.  “We’ll be there.  What should we do about refueling and rations, though?”

                Chekov presents him with the location, and he nods, studying it.  Pike’s voice crackles over the static.  “How much do you have?”

                He glances at their stock.  “Two day’s worth of both food and gasoline.”

                “You’re just going to have to wait.  This takes priority.  If you find anything there, take it.  If not, and you run out of gas on the way back, we’ll send a team out to come help you, but only when this threat has been taken care of.  Understand?”

                “Understood.  Kirk out.”

                He hands the radio back to Uhura and grins, clapping his hands together and rubbing them.  “Alright, so who’s up for our first mission, team?”

* * *

 

                They stop the van two miles away, and everyone piles out, except for McCoy and Sulu.  They’re going to be driving, and if everything goes the way they plan it, they hopefully won’t have to drive as fast and as recklessly as they can.

                Unfortunately, Jim was the one who made the plan, so they have to be ready to _move_.

                Jim and Spock plan to sneak in through the back while Chekov, Uhura, and Scotty take the front.  They plan to take the few remaining humans out through the back, after the three going through the front barricade the door.  The perimeter is swarming with the infected, but the building itself is barely violated.  It should be simple.

                The first step goes according to plan.  The zombies see Chekov, Uhura, and Scotty, and immediately stumble after them.  If there’s one thing they learn that day, it’s that Chekov can _sprint_ when he wants to.  The kid fumbles with the door, popping the lock open the way Scotty had taught him earlier and waving them through before slamming it and laughing weakly. 

                “Vhe need zhe barricade now!”

                Scotty stumbles over with a table, and Chekov takes his back off the door to help him move it into place.  “I’m workin’ on it, kid, but you cannae just zap one into place.”

                Between the three of them, the available furniture is pressed up against the door, and they hear the back door open and shut.  Jim and Spock appear, and they follow them quickly back to see the civilians.

                They’re huddled in the basement of the building, in the far corner.  One stands and aims a gun at them when they first appear, but they all raise their arms above their head, and Jim steps forward.  “I’m Captain Kirk.  We’re with the Federation, and we’re going to get you guys out.  Alright?”

                The gun lowers, and the man nods.  “Thank god.  It’s been a rough three days.”

                “Yeah, well, we’re not out yet,” Kirk murmurs, counting heads.  Fifteen.  Damn.  “Uhura, do you have any means of communication on you?”

                She seems to catch on.  “Just the portable radio.”

                Kirk nods.  “See if you can patch me through.  I need to speak with Pike about transport.”

                He takes the call into the next room when it comes through; tasking his crew with trying to comfort the civilians and figure out exactly what had happened.  “Pike, this is Kirk.  I don’t know what you were thinking about transport-wise, but our van isn’t going to fit us all and fifteen refugees.  That’s 22 people, in case you’ve lost count.”

                “I know.  We have a truck waiting a mile out to your Northeast for the civilians,” comes the reply, and Kirk calls Chekov over.  The kid tells them their van is two miles Northwest from here, and he winces.

                “We’ll get the civilians there, one way or another.  Kirk out.”

                They’re going to have to change their plan, he explains to them, recounting the conversation he had with Pike.  No one is particularly happy to hear that.  “Alright, anyone got any ideas as to how we’re going to have to go about getting them to the truck?”

                Spock raises a hand.  “Captain, we will need to run in formation around them and act as a barrier, so that they can run within it.  We will also be able to take down any zombie that gets too close to the civilians within.  We will still have to sneak out the back door to try not to alert them, but it would be logical to prepare for the complication of them seeing us.”

                He nods.  “Agreed.  Let’s get them out of here.”

* * *

 

                Every plan they seem to make has a terrible habit of going to hell in a hand basket, and this one is no different.  They had almost made it far enough away to run when one of the fresher ones- the ones with more intelligence were infected the most recently- smells them and turns towards them.  They all freeze for a second, zombie included, before it cries out, and they’re sprinting for their lives, zombies in tow.

                Uhura and Scotty are running completely backwards, firing at them every possible chance.  They all fire if something gets too close, and Kirk scoops up a little girl who just can’t run fast enough to keep up with the group.  They can see the truck from her, they just have to make it a little farther….

                Chekov sprints ahead and flings open the trap door, helping people in as quickly as he can.  All fifteen are inside within seconds, the door is down and latched, and the truck is speeding away, but the crew still has miles to run until they can reach their van, and now they’re going to have to fight their way through. 

                Zombies are closing in all around them, tightening in a circle.  It’s almost stereotypical, Jim thinks, before whispering to, “Just run as fast as you can and don’t look back,” and they all take off like rockets.  Turns out people can run really, really fast when they know that their life depends on it.

                The zombies are still after them, though, and now they’re trying to grab at them as they make a run for it.  Uhura is yanked back, and her scream echoes through the area around them.  The entire team whirls around and charges back, Scotty putting a bullet into its brain as Spock snaps the thing’s wrist to force it to let go.  Then they’re running again, dodging grips that trail over exposed arms and shoulders and ankles.

                Scotty is next to be grabbed at, but he never breaks stride, and Jim doesn’t stop running as the man grins and whirls around, switching his grip on his gun and shooting the thing point blank between the eyes.  One tries to snag Spock’s arm, but it doesn’t even get close enough before he’s jumping and his foot has been impaled into its stomach.

                Kirk can see the van now, even if it is still a mile away.  “Come on,” he shouts, pouring on more speed as his team follows him.  They’re almost there.  Almost there.

                His foot snags on a branch and he goes down, the rest of his team not noticing and running straight ahead until someone gives a shout.  They’ve gained some ground, but not much, and the zombies are closing in fast.  He scrambles backwards as they get closer, fumbling for his gun-

                Someone’s hand is around his arm, hauling him up and dragging him forwards and shooting over his shoulder with a shouted, “I’ve got you, Keptin!”  Chekov.  Thank god.  He stumbles, and then they’re sprinting again, pulling in with the rest of the group. 

                He can see Sulu’s wide eyes from here, and they all pour on their last bits of strength to reach the van, flinging the door wide open and pouring inside, Kirk barking “Drive!” before the door is even closed.

                Sulu’s face contorts from shock into one of immense concentration, and he jams the gas down, plowing through a few of the undead before trying to outrun the ones on their tail.  “Everybody hang on!” he bellows as he makes a sharp turn, the zombie that had been banging on the roof flying off.  The engines scream in protest before he’s whipping around again, charging back the way they came before making a sharp right and flying down another dirt road.

                They stay at that speed for a while before Sulu deems it safe to slow down, his white knuckled fingers finally unclenching from the wheel.  McCoy unstraps as he relaxes and slowly starts to make his way around, checking everyone over to make sure they’re ok.  Sulu’s hands aren’t shaking, which surprises Kirk, and he drives steadily, Chekov silently placing the correct map in front of him so he knows where they are.

                Everyone’s pretty banged up, bruised, and shaky, McCoy tells them, but no one is seriously injured.  Jim silently celebrates.  Their first mission and they haven’t lost anyone yet.  They even completed the job.  That’s a success.

                He tells them this, and though no one cheers, everyone smiles, and that’s enough.  For now, though, they can sleep.  Spock pries Sulu away from the wheel after a while, claiming that he meditated in the backseat and should be fine to drive while the man gets some sleep.  Sulu protests, but eventually resigns himself to a few hours.  They all pile up in the back, nodding off around each other.  They’re cautious at first, but eventually, they’re all asleep together, using each other as pillows.

* * *

 

                When Jim wakes up, the van has stopped.  McCoy is at the wheel, and Scotty is outside, the hood up.  “What happened?” he asks sleepily.  McCoy turns to look at him, frowning.

                “We ran out of fuel about a half hour ago.  Scotty’s trying to see if he can get power from somewhere else to get us to base,” he replies as Jim stretches.

                “Where are we?”  He steps over the pile of sleeping bodies as carefully as he can, not wanting to wake anyone.  They more than earned their rest. 

                McCoy shrugs.  “Somewhere pretty close to base.  Maybe thirty miles?  If we can’t fix it, I’ll have Uhura radio in and see if we can get a ride back.”

                Suddenly, there’s a bang from out front.  Jim and Leonard are out of the van in an instant, each of them reaching for their weapons as they do so.  It’s only Scotty, though, glaring at the engine with a grease smeared face.  “What the hell was that?”

                Scotty turns his frown to them.  “We’ve got a problem.  A big one.  I cannae reroute the power without permanently doin’ it, which means the van would be out of commission once we did, and even then, I don’t know if it would work.”

                “So we’re stuck here?” Jim asks.

                Scotty nods sadly, and McCoy sighs.  Great.

                They pile in to inform the crew, shaking them awake with a little regret.  Sleepy eyes meet theirs as they explain the situation, and Uhura stands up, moving over to the radio to call in for help.  Moments later, the base is on the line.  She relays their problem, Scotty supplying her with their exact location, and there’s a pause on the other end before they’re told to stay where they are, and that help would be arriving soon.

                They’re waiting patiently for help when things start to go wrong again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot about this, I'm so sorry! I promise the next update will come sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of this was setup, but chapter two will (hopefully) be posted within a week.


End file.
